【導(dǎo)讀】本科畢業(yè)設(shè)計(jì)（論文）。航空售票模擬系統(tǒng)的設(shè)計(jì)與實(shí)現(xiàn)。個(gè)簡(jiǎn)單的部分,但是它涉及到資金管理與客戶服務(wù)等多方面,因此,過(guò)去傳統(tǒng)的售票已經(jīng)不能。滿足現(xiàn)代航空業(yè)務(wù)流量劇增的客觀要求,本畢業(yè)設(shè)計(jì)便是利用開(kāi)發(fā)工具VisualFoxPr

　　

【正文】 n and the pony in Weary39。s hip pocket. 39。What a lucky pony, eh?39。 he said. Hmmm m? Hmmmm? Don39。t you wish you were that pony?39。 He handed the picture to the other old man. 39。Spoils of war! It39。s all yours, you lucky lad.39。 Then he made Weary sit down in the snow and take off his bat boots, which he gave to the beautiful boy. He gave Weary, the boy39。s clogs. So Weary and Billy were both without decent military footwear now39。 and they had to walk for miles and miles, with Weary39。s clogs clacking, with Billy bobbing upanddown, upanddown, crashing into Weary from time to time. 39。Excuse me,39。 Billy would say, or 39。I beg your pardon.39。 They were brought at last to a stone cottage at a fork in the road. It was a collecting point for prisoners of war. Billy and Weary were taken inside, where it was warm and smoky. There vas a fire sizzling and popping in the fireplace. The fuel was furniture. There were about twenty other Americans in there, sitting on the floor w ith their bac ks to the wall, staring into the flamesthinking whatever there was to think, which was zero. 本科畢業(yè)設(shè)計(jì)（論文） 30 Nobody talked. Nobody had any good war stories to tell. Billy and Weary found places for themselves, and Billy went to sleep w ith his head on the shoulder of an unprotesting captain. The captain was a chaplain. He was a rabbi. He had been shot through the hand. Billy traveled in time, opened his eyes, found himself staring into the glass eyes of a jade green mechanical owl. The owl was hanging upside down from a rod of stainless steel. The owl was Billy39。s optometer in his office in Ilium. An optometer is an instrument for measuring refractive errors in eyesin order that corrective lenses may be prescribed. Billy had fallen asleep w hile examining a female patient who was m a chair on the other side of the owl. He had fallen asleep at wor k before. It had been funny at first. Now Billy was starting to get worried about it, about his mind in general. He tried to remember how old he was, couldn39。t. He tried to remember what year it was. He couldn39。t remember that, either. 39。Doctor,39。 said the patient tentatively. 39。Hm?39。 he said. 39。You39。re so quiet.39。 39。Sorry.39。 39。You were talking away thereand then you got so quiet39。 39。Um.39。 39。You see something terrible?39。 39。Terrible?39。 39。Some disease in my anslated by David Lewis The elderly man stroked the dogpillar39。s head. This fellow here, I wonder what he was called before he became a dogpillar. No calling a dogpillar by its original name, I said. Isn39。t that a strange law? The man gave me a quick glance, then replied casually. Didn39。t they just extend the laws concerning pe ople to dogs? That39。s why they lose their names when they bee dogpillars. He nodded while scratching the dogpillar39。s jaw. Not only the old names, but you can39。t give them new names, either. That39。s be cause there are no proper nouns for plants. Why, of course, I thought. He Looked at my envelope with MANUSCRIPT ENCLOSED written on it. Excuse me, he said. Are you a writer? I was a little embarrassed. Well. yes. Just trivial little things. So that39。s it. After looking at me closely, the man returned to stroking the dogpillar39。s head. I also used to write things. He managed to suppress a smile. How many years is it now since I stopped writing? It feels like a long time. I stared at the man39。s profile. Now that he said so, it was a face I seemed to have seen somewhere before. I started to ask his name, hesitated, and fell silent. The elderly man said abruptly, It39。s bee a hard world to write in. I lowered my eyes, ashamed of myself, who still continued to write in such a world. It certainly has... The man apologized in a bit of a flurry discerning my sudden depression. That was rude. I39。m not criticizing you. I39。m the one who should feel ashamed. No, I told him, after looking quickly around us, I can39。t give up writing because I haven39。t the courage. Giving up writing! Why, after all, that would be a gesture against society. The elderly man continued stroking the dogpillar. After a long while he spoke. It39。s painful, suddenly giving up writing. Now that it39。s e to this, I would have been bette r off if I39。d gone on boldly writing social criticism and had been arrested. There are even times when I think that. But I was just a dilettante, never knowing poverty, craving peaceful dreams. I wanted to live a fortable life. As a person strong in self respect, I couldn39。t endure being exposed to the eyes of the world, ridiculed. So I quit writing, A sorry tale. He smiled and shook his head. No no, let39。s not talk about it. You never know where someone might be listening. You39。re right. I changed the subject. Do you live near here? Do you know the beauty parlor on the main street? You turn in there. My name is Hiyama. He nodded at me. Come on over some time. There39。s no one home but my wife. Thank you 本科畢業(yè)設(shè)計(jì)（論文） 31 very much. I gave him my own name. I didn39。t remember any writer named Hiyama. No doubt he wrote under a pen name. I had no intention of visiting his house. This is a world where even two or three writers getting together is considered illegal assembly. It39。s time for the mail truck to e. Talking pains to look at my watch, I stood up. I39。m afraid I39。d better go, I said. He turned a sadly smiling face toward me and bowed slightly. After stroking the dogpillar39。s head a little, I left the park. Standing Woman(2) I came out on the main street, there were a lot of cars on the road but few pedestrians. A cattree about thirty to forty centimeters high was planted next to the sidewalk. Sometimes I e across a catpillar that has just been planted and still hasn39。t bee a cattree. New catpillars look at my face and meow or cry, but the ones where all four limbs planted in the ground have ve